Keepsake
by Amorous Malboro
Summary: Deepground is finished, but Vincent can't keep up his happy charade anymore. Depression consumes him, and as it begins to devour his soul and literally end his life, there can be only one hope left: new love to heal old wounds. post DoC, TifVin
1. Missing in Action

Keepsake

_Author's Note: I don't own the rights to any portion of FF, but I do own Dirge of Cerberus, FFVII and Advent Children!_

_Warning: I may include spoilers of Dirge of Cerberus in this story, so don't complain to me if you haven't played it yet. You have been warned._

It was 3 a.m.

A calm mist had rolled over the city of Edge, blanketing parts of the ground and giving the glittering neon signs a distinct prominence in the early light. Seventh Heaven's silhouetted sign cast soothing tones of dull pink over the ground, reflecting in a puddle of water that had been lightly disturbed recently and was rippling. From behind the covered window of the bar, a light could barely be seen.

Usually, everyone would have been long asleep by now, but due to the circumstances, the bar was dimly alive this morning. Voices flowed in soft streams of dialogue from the various seating.

"I'm just so worried about him…I mean, where could he have gone?" The voice came from the Wutai ninja Yuffie, whose normally perky demeanor had been reduced to quiet picking at the pieces of sliced peach on her plate of snacks. She fidgeted at the fuzz on the backside of a slice, and then bit off the end and munched it contemplatively, frowning. "You guys all saw him! He just flew into Omega and then they both…disappeared like that." She gestured with one hand for effect, and turned her face to Cloud, as if scowling at him would produce an automatic answer.

"I'm sure he's alright." Cloud smiled somewhat, and then his look faded for a moment. "Vincent has always been able to take care of himself."

Tifa returned from behind the bar with a blanket in one hand and a glass of gin and tonic over ice in the other. She set her drink on the bar counter and quietly made her way to an overstuffed armchair by the unlit fireplace, where Marlene and Denzel had fallen asleep together. Their innocence caused her to grin to herself before she placed the blanket over their sleeping forms. The way Marlene's head was tilted on Denzel's shoulder stoked a memory of Tifa and Cloud together as children, and she moved a lock of stray hair out of the girl's mouth before sighing softly.

"Aw'course Vincent'll be able to take care of himself! Hell, he just took down Omega Weapon with'awt a blink of his eye!" Tifa heard Cid's comment followed by a noise of distress from Yuffie.

"I'm still worried about him!" Yuffie pursed her lips together and cradled her empty plate in her lap. "Vincent isn't the type of person to ask for help…or to complain, for that matter."

"We could aw'ways send summin' out there tomorra' to look for 'im if he don't come back."

"Hey, that's not such a bad idea, Barrett! He can't be too far off, right guys!"

Cloud tilted his head back slightly and eyed the window, where Shelke was staring outside with a blank look on her face. "I don't think all of us should look for him. It would be very time consuming, what with all the work we're going to have to do tomorrow helping clean up after Deepground. Why don't you go, Shelke?"

She jerked away from the view a bit suddenly, seeming surprised at the notion. "Me? Why?"

"You seem to have gotten along with him pretty well, right?"

Tifa glanced at Cloud as he spoke to the girl, and some part of her felt suddenly very distant. She sipped her drink quietly from her seat at the bar, and then turned her eyes to the ceiling, pretending to be interested in the twirling of the fan.

"Well, yes, I suppose. If that's what all of you want then…I guess I could go look for him." Having so many eyes on her at once made her nervous, and Shelke amused herself by fidgeting absently with the lace edges of the curtains and not making eye contact with Cloud. Tifa noted the small smile on his face at her reply and she spoke up.

"Hey Cloud,"

He was drawn to the sound of her voice and he turned to her, listening. "Yes?"

She paused, considering asking him 'What if we don't find Vincent?' or 'What if Vincent….is dead?' but thought better of it and shook her head from side to side. "Sorry. Nevermind."

He looked at her and she looked down at her drink, instinctively embarrassed for some reason. When she looked back again, she knew that Cloud could read what she had wanted to say in those blue eyes of his, and she coughed to change the subject. "If anyone wants to stay here for some rest, please feel free. I don't have a lot of spare rooms, but there are extra beds."

Yuffie got up to put her plate in the sink and when she passed Tifa she shook her head sullenly. "Sorry Tifa. I'd love to stay the night, but I should probably head back to Wutai. I've been meaning to check up on my old man, and the sooner the better, as they say."

Barrett and Cid both declined politely; Barrett had "business" and was planning on starting early on the Deepground clean-up, and Cid had to get home to let Shera know he was still breathing. Tifa's heart sank a little at the mention of her friends splitting up again, and she looked hopefully at Cloud for a short moment. "I suppose you're leaving too, Cloud?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I'm going to be helping in Midgar. I appreciate the offer though, Tifa. I do enjoy a nice meal and some friendly company."

"That's okay." She drained the last of the gin and set the glass down noiselessly on the counter. "I've still got Red, Shelke, and the children." She smiled despite her obvious discomfort, and then turned away altogether. "You guys have work to do, I understand." The last part was almost a whisper.

The sliding of wooden chairs on the floor was heard, and Tifa bit her lower lip as her friends got up to go. Shelke went into the back kitchen to get herself a drink of water, and Red curled up by the chair Marlene and Denzel were sleeping in. Tifa didn't watch them leave, because she knew if she looked into their eyes she would be sad.

Echoes of "goodbye" and "we'll see you again real soon!" circulated as they left, with the door finally shutting after Cloud.

"I guess I always was just a good friend, huh Cloud?"

From the kitchen, Shelke stared at the half empty glass of water in her hands, watching her distorted reflection.

"Vincent Valentine…please come home."


	2. Bluebird

**02**

_Bluebird_

Dawn came earlier than expected at Tifa's doorstep than usual. Perhaps it was the combination of the previous night's vodka and the built up worry over no sign of Vincent in Shelke's search, but whatever the cause, the normally up and about young woman was still laying in bed when 8 a.m. came and went.

Empty drink glasses littered her room, both on the nightstand and her vanity table, and her usual clothes had been thrown hastily over a chair.

The result of this was the accumulation of stress and the infrequency of Cloud Strife to do what he had promised he would. He never answered Tifa's calls, even after he'd given her his personal number and promised he would always be in touch. To be greeted with a dial tone and robotic answering machine every time she wanted to speak with him was almost as insulting as being slapped in the face. After days of not knowing where Vincent was and not being able to get a hold of Shelke or Cloud, everything had piled up until Tifa felt like the world was going to explode if she didn't drown it all out somehow. She found her solace at the bottom of each glass she emptied.

As if on some absurd cue, the familiar musical tune of a cellular phone broke the stillness of mid-morning, and consciousness drifted back to Tifa. Her long-lashed eyes squinted slowly and a soft moan emanated from her throat as an ache tore at her forehead. The ringing continued to chirp at her like a wailing songbird until she absently reached her right hand out to the end table and grappled for it. Her hand closed upon plastic and she snatched the phone back to her, staring at the caller I.D. and trying to let her brain register itself awake.

Tifa nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the name 'Shelke' emblazoned and blinking on the vibrantly lit screen in aqua lettering. She fumbled and made a noise of distress to hit the answering button, and then lifted the phone to her ear. This was the first word she had heard from Shelke in nearly a week since she'd set out after Vincent.

"Did you—"

The precocious 19 year old cut her off in the same old monotonous tone she always held. "Yes. I'll put him on the phone for you."

"Hey! But I—"

She was about to argue that she wasn't in the most terrific of states to be making small talk with an enigmatic persona such as Vincent, but was interrupted as his velveteen voice took over the receiver.

"Tifa,"

"Vincent! Where have you been? Are you okay? Everyone has been worried sick about you." Her countenance had been rattled enough in the past few days over thoughts of her friend's death, and now out of the blue here he was phoning her up like he'd been out on vacation.

"I'm sorry that I caused you and the others such strife. I was finishing something that I meant to do years ago."

Now that she'd spat out her mind to him, Tifa reconsidered on what she'd said to him previously, and wondered if she'd sounded snappy. A feeling of illness quelled in her stomach as she let out a small sigh and sat up in bed to run her left hand through her lengthy, thick chocolate hair.

"No, don't be. I'm the one who should apologize…for snapping like that. It's just that…you really made me…think you were dead. I was almost set to find a sitter for the children and go after you myself. I tried calling Cloud…but you know how he is." Her voice held a certain lowness in it as she said the last part, and Vincent detected just a hint of vindictiveness. "Anyway, I…I'm very glad that you're alright…" Tifa let her hand slide from the nape of her neck down to her shoulder, and eventually it drooped next to her on the bed sheets. She cast her eyes downward and studied her fingernails, conveniently failing to mention that she'd been god-awful drunk every night she became more anxious over his return.

There was a slightly awkward silence between the lines, and had it been anyone else, Tifa would have thought the call had been dropped, but she knew Vincent and his silent graces, so she did not venture forth any new conversation. At last, she heard him exhale, and he gave a small "Hmm.." which she took as his way of being grateful.

Tifa heard a slight rustling noise, and then before she knew it, Shelke was back on the line. "We should be back in Edge fairly quickly. Maybe a couple of hours travel, at the least."

"That's fine. I'll be waiting at the bar for the both of you." Amused by how quickly Vincent had handed off the phone—as if he were an embarrassed schoolboy—Tifa let a weak smile grace her wan lips. "Anything special you guys want to eat?"

"Not particularly, but thanks for the offer. Anything else you need us to do?"

Tifa considered asking Shelke to phone Cloud and let him know that Vincent had been found and was headed back to Edge; she bit her bottom lip as her resolve ebbed back and forth like the sea beating on a sandbar.

"No. I guess that's it."

"Okay then. Shelke out." The cell clicked as Shelke hung up and Tifa shut it lightly, letting it resume its technological slumber on her night table. She gave a delicate yawn and then stretched her arms in the light flowing from her bedroom window with a resolution to ready herself for impending company.

She trundled to the bathroom and forced herself into a cold shower to keep from being lulled into the comforts of hot water and the general direction of slumber-associated rituals. Yet, somehow even as she stood naked in the path of the great indoor waterfall, the rain reminded her of Aerith's geostigma-healing waters, and that gave even more of an incentive for her to think of Cloud. Suddenly her face felt very hot, and she gritted her teeth together in an effort not to cry.

'That Cloud Strife…' she remembered thinking how romantic his name had sounded to her naïve ears in the beginning of their friendship; now all she could do was scowl at the memories she had forged with him. Oh, so many memories with that man, and here how they hurt her so deeply, like a cut in her heart each time they were stoked by his indecent behaviors and peculiar habits. Nothing against Aerith personally, but sometimes Tifa really wished the girl hadn't existed at all.

But she knew that was selfish of her to think that way, and she hated herself for wanting her dead friend to disappear like an erasable drawing. Most of all, she was beginning to hate Cloud for using her good will for a free crashing place. That is, when he _decided_ to show up.

Suddenly, Tifa was returned to reality by a knock on her the bathroom door, and she flinched, somewhat startled. She shut off the shower and called out as she rung out her wet hair behind her. "Yes?"

"Tifa," It was Marlene. "We're hungry!"

Tifa jolted herself out of the shower stall and wrapped a towel that was almost too small for her figure around her body before opening the door to discover Marlene waiting behind it in a new spring dress. 'How long was I in the shower?'

"I'm sorry, Marlene! I was daydreaming. Would you guys like pancakes?"

The little girl's face lit up at the mention of every child's favorite breakfast food, and she clasped her small hands together behind her back. "Yes please!"

"Alright then! You and Denzel set the table, and I'll be down after I'm dressed to fix them for you. What kind of fruit is Denzel's favorite?" Tifa couldn't help but be happy around the little girl. Something about the child helped keep her sane.

"Strawberry!"

"Strawberries it is, then." Tifa watched her whoop with glee and then rocket out of the room to help Denzel with their task.

Several extra minutes were spent at Tifa's closet after the children were safely out of the area and she had locked her bedroom door. Somehow nothing looked good today. Tifa didn't know why, but she was about to give up and throw her pajamas back on when she crossed paths with her old outfit from 3 years prior. With a smile, she donned the white tank top, dark shorts and combat boots; she snapped the suspenders with her gloved hands and did a turn in the mirror for a moment before grinning. 'I guess not all memories can hurt.'

Once the children had been fed, they begged to go outside and play, so Tifa sent Red with them and from that time onward, she'd had the house all to herself. She even contemplated not opening the bar that night just for the sake of having her friends back. Sighing contentedly, she peered out the kitchen window over the sink while she washed dishes.

The blue hue of the atmosphere itself was a dreamy shade, the sort of thing that was usually talked about in fantasy books and never actually seen except on rare, peaceful days. Tifa wondered what the view looked like from where Vincent and Shelke were.

After doing the dishes, she made her way throughout the bar and house, dusting and sweeping everything down and tidying her room up by removing the empty glasses she had binged on over her nightmarish anticipations; when most everything was clean, Tifa started towards the stairs leading down, but then paused at the empty guest room.

She entered the darkness of the room with little concern and then paused when she came to the center of it. The bed was neatly made with one of her mother's hand-knit quilts—her second favorite—but it was the kind of bed that appeared lonely and forlorn. This was Cloud's room.

Tifa glanced around herself and did a slow-turn all the way around. Nothing in the room even suggested that anyone had used it in all of the time it had been there, as if it were a forgotten chamber in an empty castle. Crossing the room, Tifa came to the windows, and with a single movement, yanked the curtains open all the way.

Without warning, light from the open street came flooding in, and all the dust particles that had been near the sill flew into the air and danced in the mixture of sun and shadow. For airing purposes, Tifa opened the window and stepped back to survey her work momentarily. Lastly, she picked the quilt up off the bed and folded it neatly into a square, which she stowed in the upper portions of the closet. Like a brick to the brain, suddenly she knew that Cloud would never come back to stay, and it was useless to be sentimental to him anymore. With a sense of twisted pleasure, Tifa took some slight joy in laying out a new bedspread, as if it were a subtle sign of her petulance.

She replaced the quilt with a bedspread of entirely black color, almost morbid, one could say. Her mouth upturned slightly at the corner, and when she was done, she left the room without a second glance to return to her business downstairs.

She made it halfway down the stairs when the door burst open and Denzel came running in with a smile on his face. Little Marlene followed after, her hand clutched tightly in another's as she entered, almost trying to drag the other person through the doorway with her childish strength.

"Marlene! Stop pestering that poor person!" Tifa's tone was scolding, but light. She couldn't truly tell who Marlene was attempting to show in because the sun was shining in her eyes.

"But Tifa! Look who came back!"

Metal boots clanked hard against wood as the figure stepped inside the bar, and at once, the familiar, tattered red cloak floated in. Shining, long raven-black hair cascaded over a set of stern crimson eyes and flesh as pale as moonlight.

Vincent Valentine had returned.


	3. Nonpareil

**03**

_Nonpareil _

He entered with swift grace even though Marlene appeared to be dragging him in through the door, metal clanking on the wooden floor with a distinct _doomp kloomp _noise as he stepped forwards in patterns of twos. Tifa's languid dark eyes drank him in and the sunlight rayed out behind his shoulders, illuminating the shining, lush tresses of his hair which fell over them. There was a solemn pause, and Tifa opened her mouth to venture forth a greeting, but it died in her throat as Vincent interrupted.

"Shelke left halfway through the journey. She's not coming back."

Immediate concern flooded Tifa, but somehow she found it less vital then when she had feared for Vincent's safety. Perhaps, she thought, it was because she knew how to reach the 19 year old; glancing half-mindedly at the phone on the wall, she resolved to wait for tirades and questions.

"I see."

While she had her eyes cast aside, she never saw the smirk that crossed the other's face.

"I haven't seen that outfit in a while."

"Eh…oh, well I…" She was startled by the intensity of his attention to detail, and she felt a hot feeling creeping into her cheeks. Embarrassed, she tried to hide it with a smile. "I was just going through my closet and I found it…so…"

He was quiet after that, and when she looked back, the laughter on his lips was missing in action. "Um…would you like a drink?" She made her way to the bar and reached for a small crystal glass as if reading his mind.

"Vodka on the rocks with lime." He slipped out of Marlene's grasp and she giggled at him, apparently finding humor in his every aspect. Vincent looked back at her and the corner of his mouth twitched, forcing him to pull a Mona Lisa. The familiar sounds of liquid meeting glass caught his attention, and he looked towards Tifa, who worked with silent eloquence at her task. He observed the way she placed the little wedge of lime on the edge of the glass with her dainty ladyfingers, and for some reason his heart skipped a beat.

Eventually, Marlene found her way upstairs to Denzel, and as she faded from the room, Vincent casually approached the bar and took a seat in front of his drink. Tifa busied herself as if she had been nothing to him the whole time. She did not expect much conversation from Vincent, and thus she moved about her tasks in quiet, nothing more than a moth in the lamplight. Currently, she was rearranging the tequila in order of brand. He observed her for a moment at her job, and then lifted the crystal to his lips for a drink.

The alcohol left a cool singe down the back of his throat, and he plucked the lime off of the glass and bit into it. He sloshed the flavor around in his mouth for a second, swallowed, and then uttered in his deep baritone, "Thanks."

Tifa froze momentarily with a bottle of _El Matador_ red tequila in her hands; slowly, she put the bottle back on the middle shelf and uttered a quick "You're welcome, Vincent" before returning to her polishing and organizing. Vincent continued to eye her as he sipped the vodka, and thoughts of how meticulously clean women were marred his brain; the familiar calm fuzz that came with the effects of the drink sucked the tenseness from his mind while he rested. She was rearranging a bottle she had just put back on the shelf, he noticed, and with a frustrated sigh, she set it down and escaped into the back kitchen.

Ribbons of light filtered from the windows to the left of him, and Vincent basked in the sun while his drink disappeared in due time. He shut his eyes as the day washed over him, and set his glass on the dark wooden counter. With the metallic armor of his left hand, he traced the rim with a delicate golden claw, carefully fingering it as if he were a dragon caressing a butterfly.

He drifted back to reality and with a snatch, picked up the glass and headed for the kitchen. For some reason, he knew Tifa was thinking about something, and he had a vague idea of what it was likely about. Carefully, he fused with the darkness of the back kitchen, and entered the dim sanctum. Dust stirred in the air, filtered only by the rays of light which penetrated a single, small kitchen window overlooking the street and partial pieces of blue sky. In the sink were what appeared to be 8 or 9 empty drinking glasses that had not yet been washed, and Tifa was standing with her back to him and leaning against the door.

"Is there something wrong?"

As soon as he let his words out, her shoulders jumped and he knew he had startled her without meaning to. He hastily began to add an apology, but she whipped around too quickly and began talking over him.

"Oh! Uh…no! No! Why would you think that?" Her eyes looked slightly red, and he sensed an off balance in her actions as she fumbled to hide her hands behind her back. Before she slipped them away, he noticed a half-empty glass of something clutched in one. She stepped in a hasty manner in front of the sink, but her efforts were not well enough to fool Vincent. He took a step closer to her, and she shrank back in slight quickness. Her breath hinted of mint liqueur.

"You must've had a lot of customers recently."

She resisted the urge to bite her lower lip and looked away to the side, to her feet, to anywhere but at Vincent. "I…uh…yes. Yes, we've been kind of busy."

Silence enveloped them, for which Tifa was grateful, but her hope was short-lived. Without warning, he reached out with his clawed hand and firmly but gently grasped her right arm. She let out a small gasp and stuttered, "V-Vincent! What are you doing! Stop that--"

He brought her hand forwards out in front of both of them and she stopped talking when he plucked the half-full glass from her fingers, letting her go instantly.

Tifa felt the shame of a liar leak into her face, and she turned away from him to avoid being caught turning crimson. Vincent set the glass down on the counter and stepped back from her to give her some space.

"I know it's none of my business, and I don't mean to insult you, but do yourself a favor for once. Don't let Cloud pull your strings all the time."

There was a noise that resembled a very small, half-choke, and Tifa tried to cache her face away as a frown molded onto her features over her blush. She felt the heat in her face rise, and the throb of a stone in her throat threatened to melt her composure into destructive sobs.

Vincent's brows knitted and cast dark shadows over his hollow, velvet-crimson eyes as he saw her recoil against the cabinets as if she had been bitten by a serpent. He said nothing to further cause her pain, but he knew that the damage was already done.

It seemed anyone who came in contact with Cloud Strife suffered just as his name implied: pure and utter friction.

Tifa let out a rather loud sniff, and against her own wishes, shut her eyes as her lips parted slightly. She seemed to struggle against an invisible demon which she was too weak to fight, and her lower lip quivered vainly. Before the unwilling tears came, she slammed her fist violently on the countertop first, and then followed up with feebler imitations as she gave in to her raw frustration. Her fist opened and she rested her palm weakly on the precipice of the sink, failing to stay angry as she began to cry.

She emanated a particularly loud sob and her knees buckled under her, allowing her to sink pitifully to the ground with her head against the cabinets and dark hair strewn carelessly after her fawnish form.

As he observed her breakdown, Vincent couldn't help but feel a bit of outrage stoking in his stomach. Here was a woman that could bring some of the most powerful men to their knees in pools of their own blood, and yet the very man she trusted most had broken her heart and slain her confidence. She was a kitten now, helplessly mewing for an owner who acted like she did not even exist. He gritted his teeth inwardly and advanced toward her; bending to her level, he hesitated, but then ventured his non-armored hand out to rest on her head.

She responded by jerking toward his direction in surprise and eyeing him with large eyes full of wetness and beautiful rejection. The very sight of a woman like her with tears streaming down her face made Vincent angry, angry at the man who had done this to her, but he was careful to place a lid on his seething for fear she wouldn't open up to someone; Vincent sighed softly, and moved his hand to cradle her cheek in what he thought could have been too bold if he had had any less daring in him. "Tifa," he cooed in soft, dark undertones.

Her expression vaguely changed to a saddened, sulking frown, and he noted the way her lips trembled as he assumed she attempted to say something; she failed, and only a tremulous, small cry came out. The note seemed to strike Vincent like a harpoon through the chest, and his look of severity lightened as he dropped his hand down to his side and situated himself in a sitting position, as a sign of his want to aid in her comfort, though he was silent, as always. He cast his eyes away, in case she rebuked him, busying himself with the intricacy of the floor tile's design.

"Oh Vincent," came the smothered reply from her. He glanced into her face and moved his hand aside, knowing full well what she would desire from him. As expected, she crawled the short distance to his side and murmured his name again. "Vincent,"

"Come."

She obeyed without hesitation, and flung herself into his chest and buried her face full on his neck. Her fierce torrent of crying was muffled by the fabrics of his red cloak, which darkened in a deeper shade in the spots where the tears made contact. Tifa clenched absently at the cloak attachments and shook her head softly back and forth, occasionally trying to say fragments of conversation which Vincent couldn't understand. His eyes softened a bit, and in a small sweeping motion, he wrapped both arms and part of the cloak around her shuddering form, drawing her closer in a temperate embrace.

He closed his eyes partially and rested his forehead in a tender fashion on the top of her silken dark hair. "How much does it take to heal a heart completely, I wonder?"

_**Authors' Note**_: _Thanks to the seven people who reviewed! I thought this story wasn't going to get that much attention, but I'm definitely happy I got so many in such a short time! I apologize for the wait for this chapter. I was very busy at school and with commissions for art. Once again, many thanks to those who reviewed! (It boosts my ego, you see. Makes the chapters better, yes, yes, it does.) _

_Regarding this chapter, I don't intend on making Tifa into the weepy type, but I thought that after so long, she deserved at least one emotional moment. Don't kill me, kill CLOUD! XD_

_And no, Vincent is not turning into an OC. I just though that after DoC he had matured a little bit in the emotional department towards others. He may be silent, but you know he cares on the inside. : Sappy "Awww" noises here:_

_Vincent: STOP RUINING MY BADASS IMAGE : pelts author with papayas:_

_Also, more on Shelke's sudden disappearance will be explained in later chapters to come (possibly the next one). I just needed her off-ed for this one so Tifa and Vincent could share quality character development time together._

_Well, a new chapter is coming soon, so stay tuned and remember to review!_


	4. Spire

**04**

_Spire_

The sun sank low in the west, dipping it's belly under the horizon and yawning itself further and further away from Edge with a certain breed of lethargy. Its rays had faded from white to orange over the span of 20 minutes, and now the rum-colored skies were finally beginning to go with it. Trim of purple and blue hung on the atmosphere, saying farewell to the citizens under it.

Tifa had long since retired to her room after her display in the kitchen in front of Vincent. She could recall the whole thing like a bad movie that refused to linger anywhere but in her mind. Tifa cringed and her thoughts mingled together. 'What was I doing…? Vincent probably thinks I'm a weak-hearted fool.' Blinking, she drew her feet up closer to her face and rested her chin on them. 'Maybe he's going to leave too.'

X

He watched the sunset through his room's single window and despite himself, sighed slightly. When he'd stepped out of Lucrecia's cavern today, away from her eternal prison, Vincent had believed the past was all now finally behind him. Turning, he dropped his crimson gaze to study his shoes.

"Everything…is still here."

Even now, in this room, in this house, Vincent could feel Lucrecia like she was standing right beside him. Vaguely, he took his right hand and lifted it to his forehead; he moved his fingers in small circles in an attempt to ease the tension, but try as he might, the sick throbbing of his heart did nothing but continue hastily onward. Chagrin bit down on him hard, and his lips parted, but only to leak his usual silence.

It seemed that not even Vincent could bleed away another drop for Lucrecia, and he shamed himself for it. Here in this room it hit him harder than anywhere else, and for the first time in his life, he understood why.

Tifa's breakdown had been the same as Lucrecia's. For two very different reasons they most definitely were, but Vincent connected them on a parallel because of their magnitude. Looking at Tifa cry was like watching Lucrecia cry, and to him, it was further evidence of his own hand in their sorrows.

Blame forked it's tongue in his face, and Vincent stared it down in acceptance. The hardened years of his grief flooded him over, and he found himself in a sea of problems that he had caused. Inescapable, he knew. Most recently, Tifa's example was the most damning to him. If he had not mentioned Cloud, she probably could have swallowed that portion of her life without incident.

But of course, leave it to the silent ghost with the sin on his breath to drag someone like Tifa down all over again. Vincent replaced his hand at his side and somewhere in his throat welled the dark that had overflowed on him his whole life. He resolved that this time he knew the right thing to do, for Tifa's sake at the least.

The farewell glints of the amber sun criss-crossed over his face, and for a long while, he did nothing. The pallor of his lips turned orange in the light, and in a fleeting moment, he was a demon of another color altogether. But unlike the monsters that dwelled in his heart, Vincent knew he could control this turn of his life just like Lucrecia had taught him to control Chaos. Without another thought left in his mind to change it, Vincent put the small guest room behind his heels, and without turning back or saying goodbye, left Tifa in her own chambers.

X

For a while she lamented on how poorly she thought of her own behavior. Tifa frowned upon remembrance of all the alcohol she had consumed over Vincent, and the embarrassment she felt when she knew he had seen this. It was just not so lady like for a woman of her ability and good graces to be drinking her days away over someone who was capable of ripping Shinra to shreds with a handgun—or at least that's what _Tifa_ thought of herself.

She smiled sadly and played with her hair. Still it was nice to know that she had finally been able to cry about something to someone. After all the time and the fights that she and Cloud had been through, and the man had never even given her much of his own time in return. Tifa half thought that she shouldn't blame him because it was her own fault for being so attentive to him, but seeing Vincent again had opened up her darker side. The look in his eyes—that raw, intense gaze—seemed so truthful. Tifa couldn't help but know he had read straight through to her inner core and seen the withering that she had been through over Cloud.

Shivering somewhat, she pulled a stray, split end out of her dark brown mane and flicked it away. "That's what Cloud thought of me as, probably." She exhaled and fidgeted some more with the bed sheets, noticing for the first time in ages that she was not wearing the ring he had given her with his name on it. 'Serves him right.' She felt bitter over memories of Cloud, and with a ravishing sigh, she pulled herself to the edge of the bed and got up. 'I shouldn't waste time on him anymore. Vincent was right, and for that, I owe him.'

She made her way to the door and out into the hallway; the twilight had set in, and waves of blue were permeating the house through the various open windows. The whole place seemed aloof and airy, almost hauntingly nostalgic, in evening's wake. Tifa swept her hair behind her shoulders and folded her arms against her sides in a resting manner as she approached his room. Her eyes focused on the shadows dancing at the edge of the light, and she entered on a friendly note of "Hello!"

The room was still and unchanged since Vincent's untimely departure. Even the covers on the new bedspread seemed immaculate, and not even the window had been touched or opened. Tifa's eyes grew wide at the emptiness, and she stared in disbelief for a moment.

"He's…"

A part of her almost began to feel horridly self-conscious of her own appearance to him as a human, but she stopped herself from going further. Her lips set in a straight line and she turned on her heel towards the stairs. "No," came the half-whisper out of Tifa's throat. "He couldn't think that he…?"

She called after herself on the way down the stairs. "I'm going out for a moment, children. Lock the door behind me!" Each step she flew down made a thunking noise as it came it contact with her old boots. 'He can't be far.' She suppressed the solemn worry that had welled in her gut and swallowed dryly.

"Vincent Valentine!" she grabbed the door handle and threw it open. Neither the streets nor Seventh Heaven answered her back as she closed it behind her and looked on either side of her person. "Where are you?" She gritted her teeth together and frowned. Violet embers of the sunken sun littered the sky, and here and there, the city turned varying shades of pastel purple. A few dim streetlights clicked on, and Tifa started off at a fast walk down the cobblestone pathway to her right.

X

He walked for a little while after leaving Seventh Heaven and then stopped at a place he'd seen several times before. Sitting on the edge of the rubble of the fallen square fountain, Vincent leaned his head back and stared at the empty sky, searching it for an answer. The puree of scattered clouds did little to stir anything within him, and eventually he gave up altogether.

"Lucrecia…"

He'd seen it all with his own two eyes. Her beauty, her death, her ghost; he grimaced as the memories struck a chord over his heart, and silently he wondered if she was in a place near paradise or if he had been insane thinking about her for so long.

His longing eyes glazed against the fading world above, and he exhaled softly.

"I don't want to hurt anyone anymore."

Somewhere in the back of his head he swore he heard a voice answer him back.

X

Thanks again for my lovely reviewers! I wish I could give all of you happy authoress muffins of gratitude, but alas, that's not very online friendly, is it?

:D

Anyways, sorry for such an uneventful chapter. I'm really tired xD

But I won't give up on this one!

Vincent-chan's story must be told!


	5. Hiatus

Been a long time since an update, I know.

I'm sorry.

I've been through a hell of a lot since then.

Car crash, college applications, grades…it's all so horrifying.

Anyway, here's your reward.

Hiatus

X

Tifa breathed out in the cold and her dark eyes fixed on the shape under the fountain; she pressed her knuckles against the metal of the pipe touching her cheek and stood still.

Valentine was hunched over in a sitting position natural for his experimental posture, the dark hair he possessed flowing softly with his red cowl in a breeze of the night. A full moon swelled above him, outlining features of his face that seemed all the more like a vampire's.

Swallowing, she barely believed that she could have moved from her spot if she'd wanted to. Something in her heart told her that he was not right.

If Vincent had noticed her presence, he did not acknowledge it. Instead he lifted a gloved hand to his shadowed face and gripped his head as though in pain. She thought maybe his shoulders moved under the fabric, but she couldn't tell for certain. Her breath stopped when she heard him murmuring, and she craned her delicate neck to listen.

"Lucrecia…"

From her hiding place she caught him grinding his teeth at no one. Her pulse skipped a step and if the night had been louder she just might have let a tiny, exhaled breath escape.

Was he…

Tifa frowned sadly and took a slight step forward. Too bold? Maybe.

Vincent didn't even want to believe he could be this pathetic; a part of him was a shred away from sobs and another was deftly close to a scream. No matter how many times he buried her, she came back. Not willingly, really, but the voice he had just heard had to be either the last cries of her spirit or his own mind's insanity. His father's words rang in his head like a gale. _'Can't you act like a man?'_

"You would want that," he growled into the night. Tifa froze in her place but he failed to notice her. Shaking his head, Vincent cradled his sore head and tried to do the same to his heart. "You never could know how much she meant." He almost laughed but he knew it was not the time. His stone-red eyes broke and he felt like he might bite through his own lip. "Lucrecia!" The last part was strangled.

A fountain of confusion was very evident in her mind but she chose to ignore it. After Vincent had startled her with his words she'd almost thought he was going to whip around and yell at her, but then she knew that wasn't like him. Of course, this was a new side to him as well. Rarely did he show much more than a straight face. Tifa feared that this was the day he might crack.

She could feel the potential fallout before she even took the second set of steps to his side, but she knew that tonight was it: death or rebirth. She set her teeth together and quelled the impending dread in her stomach. Her fists clenched.

"It was never your fault."

He froze. She waited for the reprimand, the anger, the yelling, hell maybe even Chaos. Maybe he'd kill her. Tifa really didn't care at this point, but she did want to know what was wrong with him. "Don't…don't do this to yourself."

For a moment he stayed as though he'd turned to stone, but then it passed and he stood up. Not shedding so much as a sidelong glance at her, Vincent began to stride away. He was so full of shame and utter rage. Grimoire seemed to laugh at his back now as he walked, and Valentine wondered if he would ever be spared the punishment of his existence. Even Tifa's efforts fell on dull ears. His voice was cold and collected when he spoke. "You shouldn't have come here."

Tifa was taken aback. He hadn't even looked at her. A dark fire rose in her chest and her sympathy turned bitter. "Self-ruin isn't the way to an answer, Vincent! Don't you see what you're doing to your mind?"

No answer.

She began to stalk forward to the flowing cape of red, halting only when she was five feet from his back.

"Don't you see? You're making yourself sick." Her voice welled into a near sob. "When you get like that…like some dead martyr…you make me hurt." Her cheeks rosied; Vincent stopped walking, but still said nothing.

Tifa stared at her shoes, almost grimacing.

"I hate that. I hate it more than when Aerith died." Vincent's heart pumped a little and he turned just enough to look at her from the corner of his eye. "Don't you know why, Vincent?"

He wanted to ask why but his lips mouthed air. He knew she was crying.

"Because you're doing the same thing to yourself. You're dying. I can feel it."

She closed her eyes and fought the silent sorrow. He was watching her and his frozen look had returned again. Of course, Vincent and his mask; without it, his natural instinct showed itself, and God forbid he be human. His metal shoes click-clacked as he began walking away again, and Tifa couldn't stand it anymore.

There was no thinking anymore. There was no time. Tifa half knew what she was doing before she ran at him, and maybe she thought she might punch him, but in reality she was far too angry. This anger transcended the base instinct. She didn't want to let him go. That damn red cloak—his sin—felt too good against her cheek.

"What are you—"

He began it as an annoyed statement to drive her away, but she cut him off.

"I don't want to lose someone else important to me."

Tifa felt naked for saying it, but she knew she'd hit a vein of silver. Vincent tensed under her grasp and lowered his head.

For a while it was silent, and then he said,

"I assume you want me to stay, then."

X

A/N: Oh, so horrible! XD

I hate it. –seethes-

But it's necessary to sate you people. XDD

Reviews?


	6. Chaos Sleeping

People actually liked that last chapter!

Heh heh. I guess it's not as bad as I thought it was.

And to confirm a question one of my reviewers had, there is no need to worry dear, no lemons will come about from this fic. I have nothing against a well written lemon myself but I don't think I would be able to write one. I'm good at angst, though! XD

Quick dialogue note: all italics are Tifa's thoughts. I didn't feel the need for quotes.

**06**

_Chaos Sleeping_

X

Tifa leaned with her hip on the side of the bar, the light from Seventh Heaven's fireplace alive and bouncing orange waves on her figure. She dried the empty scotch glass in her hand and glanced towards the licking flames. They danced and cast their languid spells over the room in the midnight, and their little sparks seemed to highlight the chair near them. Tifa caught the end of Vincent's hair in her line of vision and checked her eyes quickly. The scotch glass seemed never dry enough.

_I wonder…if he's okay._

Her doe's eyes glittered orange and she gently placed the glass back on the lower cabinet. She paused and looked at the back of the armchair.

Biting her lip, she crossed the room slowly, prepared for him to ignore her some more. He had been exceptionally quiet since she'd returned him to the bar; Tifa supposed it was natural for him to be embarrassed and angry over it, but if it was one thing she couldn't stand, it was belittlement. Cloud had given her a fair chance to hate that with passion.

The memories made her sigh softly, but when she heard the sound she decided it sounded a bit too sad. _I should be happy. I got him to stay._ A smile wanted to pull her lips apart, but she couldn't bring herself to grin as she came around to the side of Vincent's chair and sat back on the couch. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been following you. I really wanted to…Vincent?" She looked at him and frowned slightly. His dark eyes were shadowed so that she couldn't see them and his head was lolled forward a little. "Are you listening?"

She closed her mouth slowly and tentatively waved a hand out in front of his face. He didn't move, which was odd since usually he would have at least given her a very dry expression. Tifa got up and bent down to get a closer look at him in the dark. Her irritation melted with haste at the sight.

Vincent still clutched his empty glass in his clawed golden hand, but up close he was very much inactive. His eyes were closed, his rosy lips parted slightly as the breath flowed softly in and out. Tifa almost snorted it was so cute. It seemed even great sadness weighing on a heart had to leave some time or other, unless of course, he was dreaming about it too. Tifa frowned lightly and took the empty glass from his clutches. "Sweet dreams, Vincent." She bit her lower lip and watched him for a moment longer; her hand lingered for a moment on his, and then she removed it as she turned away.

"Lucre…cia, don't go."

Tifa's hand loosened on the glass, and she would have almost dropped it had she not been so close to the counter in time. "So even in sleep, you'll never truly rest, will you Vincent?" She stared at the last of his melting ice cubes and sucked at her teeth silently. She berated herself for sympathizing over this man, because she held a sense of impending dread that he would do the same thing to her as Cloud had done. She hated her compassionate nature sometimes. _I'm a fool_, she shook her head back and forth, _A damn fool. But God rest his soul, if there was anything I could do for him to make it stop, I would try it._

The factor that scared her the most was that somewhere in her heart she knew she might still have done it for Cloud too.

"We could go…go to my favorite spot…" Vincent murmured in his sleep. "I know you'd like it…Lucrecia. Just…please, don't go…not yet…"

Tifa crossed the room once more and cast her hand over the armchair. At least it wasn't a nightmare now. That would come tomorrow and stay until he died. She bent down and looked at his boyish expression, free of his scowl and calm.

The soft spot in her tired gaze sank to her midsection.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was an inch away from his mouth.

She cast her eyes downward; the smell of the scotch was on his breath, but it was like something sweet to her, and she didn't want to pull away. She raised her head a bit and whispered "I'm not going anywhere, Vincent" And then she kissed him on the cheek.

"Lu…crecia," he breathed. His voice sounded lighter.

She slowly moved her forehead up and set it against his. "Vincent Valentine." She smiled, feeling in some way closer to him. His gloved hand twitched on the armrest, and he fell silent again, his breathing just a little bit heavier. "Sometimes I wish you'd never wake from your dreams. You would be so happy."

She pulled herself from his form and slunk away into the darkness slowly.

"Maybe I would be happy if I were dreaming, too."

And then it was silent.

X

A/N: Well, I hope that wasn't too mushy. I'm trying to define Tifa's attachment to Cloud, because it is still there. Of course I'm about to squash it, but for her character's sake, she needs to have a tie first, just like Vincent's tie to Lucrecia. XD

I don't make sense anymore.

Glad I have people to read my junk XD


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